


An Emptiness that Hurts

by Roburraparte



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Burr being comforted by Hamilton, Drugs, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, because there's not much of that, nothing serious don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roburraparte/pseuds/Roburraparte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron Burr is mourning the loss of his wife and struggling with feelings for his friend and colleague, Hamilton. Hamilton is a great friend.<br/>This is kind off inspired by a real event where Burr went to Hamilton for help one night because he was in debt and possibly suicidal but Burr isn't suicidal here, just mourning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Emptiness that Hurts

It was the 18th of May. The first anniversary of Theodosia’s death. Aaron had spent most of it rereading their old correspondence, regretting some of his words and savoring her every syllable. It seemed that every day she faded further into the past, her memory becoming more distant. She had been more than his wife, she was his assistant, his best friend, the only one in the world with whom he felt fully at ease, and she left behind her a gaping hole in his life he had not yet managed to fill. She had given him the best years of his life. Burr told himself that she lived on in her daughter – their daughter – who was his pride and joy in every sense. Her eyes were his, but her smile was all her mother’s; sweet and intelligent, like she knew more than you did. It was probably true.

Today she hadn’t smiled at all.

He had allowed her a break from her studies, for he was in no mood to instruct and Theo in no mood to learn. They’d both went to visit the grave instead. The weather was pleasant and nothing else was on their minds, no matter how much they would have welcomed any distraction. Aaron had held his daughter’s hand all the way.

“What kind of flowers do you think she’d like?” He asked her softly, his voice muted and ever calm.

“… I was reading about the language of flowers this morning – it’s called floriography – I thought it would be nice to put something down that really meant something and… I know it’s not conventional, but I think we should give her sweet peas and forget-me-nots.”

“The forget-me-nots I understand, but sweet peas?”

“They mean goodbye… and thank you.” Theo’s voice broke a little, though she sniffed loudly to mask it. He squeezed her hand tightly.

“That sounds perfect, darling.”

They left a bouquet at her grave, the bright blue and pinks swirling together like a watercolour. It was a blue day too, the sky bright with no more than a few wisps of white clouds. Though his throat ached with withheld tears, he felt it appropriate weather for the occasion. This was goodbye; time to move on, but remember always.

Aaron knelt down at little Theo’s level and held her tightly, her sobs flowing openly as she buried her head in his shoulder and clutched the fabric of his coat. He could feel the warmth of her tears and her breaths through his clothes as she cried, the choking sound almost provoking his own emotions. He dared not cry though, he could be strong a while longer. For his daughter. Rubbing her back ever so tenderly he whispered soft reassurances, kept his voice steady. Lifting her red, tear stained face to meet his eyes, he smiled sadly at her. Aaron could feel his lips quivering, his eyes burning as they threatened to betray him, but somehow he managed to hold it together.

“She would be proud of you for being so strong, but she’d also want you to be happy. Smile more for her?” He prompted quietly, wiping her tears away with his thumb as he held her. 

Theo managed a small smile, not a happy one perhaps, but sincere. Aaron pulled a handkerchief from inside his coat and placed it in her hand.

“Home?”

“Home.”

 

That night, long after having put Theo to bed, he sat in his office in absolute silence. He wished to dream so that he might perhaps see his wife again, in some fabricated situation or in a replay of a memory, but sleep evaded him. Aaron had poured a few glasses of wine and now sat with his third but it did not really appeal to him, the taste being too rich and not giving him what he desired. His eyes glanced down to the top drawer of his desk, locked but containing inside what he wanted. He procured the key from the small jewelry box that he still kept at his bedside, full of Theodosia’s various ornaments. If she were here she would caution him against it, but she was not. He was alone. 

The tiny black bottle, no bigger than his thumb, contained laudanum. A quiet panacea, which once added to his drink would give him the respite he needed. He twirled the bottle on his hand, the cold glass comforting against his clammy, anxious hands. Aaron could feel them shaking as he popped the cork, the usually satisfying sound making his stomach flip as he squeezed the bottle pointlessly in hesitation. He listened, the house entirely silent with he and his daughter being the only occupants. Straining hard enough, he was almost certain he could hear her quiet, rhythmic breaths, though part of him said that it was his imagination playing tricks on him. In reality the room was silent, his Theo too far away to be heard from here.

Putting his thumb over the opening of the bottle, he poured two single drops into his glass, and swirled the mixture for a few moments. Before he drank, he screwed the cork back on the opaque bottle and placed it cautiously in its’ drawer, sealing and locking away it with finality. _One time. This is one time._ Taking a gulp of the wine, he swallowed it without allowing it a single moment to taint his tongue. The taste was stale and bitter but he kept it down, and drank more wine to wash it away.

 

Vaguely, he remembered putting his coat on and leaving his house, but it was all a bit of a blur. Somehow he was now walking up the street to the Hamilton residence, his hands shaking in his coat pockets as he walks, his knees feeling strangely shuddering and weak. His mind was repeating in his head to turn away, that this is wrong, that he should head home. But his mind was not in control. Pausing as his lungs began to fail for a moment, he reached for his pocket watch and saw the time as half past one in the morning. He couldn’t possibly go to their door at this time, with no reason other than his own misery. And yet, he still felt compelled to do so. Before he could register much more, he realized that he was on their doorstep and knocking. _Is the sound far too loud because I am tired or because it is late?_ He didn’t know.

Alexander Hamilton appeared at the door, fully dressed but looking disheveled. Of course he would be working this late. Aaron noticed ink stains on his sleeve where he had perhaps leaned and it had not yet dried, a testament to his speed of thought and work.

“Colonel Burr? Whatever are you doing, it’s the middle of the night.” He spoke, his voice slurred with fatigue as he rubbed his eyes.

“General Hamilton, I am sorry to disturb you so late but…” Aaron’s voice faltered. He doesn’t have an excuse to be here.

“Would you like to come in?”

It’s a simple question, one that can be answered in only two ways, but he hesitates still.  
  
_Would I like to come in? Yes, I would like to come in, very much so. So much so that I’ve spent every day since I met you convincing myself not to be tempted, dispelling the thought that you might want me. I am tired. I am utterly alone. Do you remember what day it is? Do you know that the only people left in my life are you and my daughter? By all rights I should have had an easy life, but no. In every path I have taken life has conspired against me. I would like to come in and sit with you, Alexander, and drink cheap wine and muse on all the difficulties life has dealt us. To sit and talk with you about it all, to feel your fiery, passionate love, and give you mine in return. To have you ask about my day and offer me comfort, and to do the same for you. To listen to you talk for hours on end and then stroke your hair once fatigue finally wins out._

_But I don’t get to fall in love with you. And if I come in, I fear that that just might happen._

“You’re too kind, sir, but I shouldn’t.” He said with a false smile, and yet his eyes were sparkling as though he was willing it to become genuine. It quivered too much for a person like Burr, who was always calm and steady.

“Then – if I may be blunt – why are you here?”

“I…” He decided against speaking. There were a few moments of piercing silence as Burr stood, staring at his feet and Alexander waited for an answer that wasn’t coming. He could feel his knees shaking, about to give way. Without explanation he sat on Hamilton’s doorstep, back turned to him, holding his head in his hands as the world faded in and out, his body shaking and his eyes misting over. If Alexander thought this bizarre he said nothing of it, merely heaving a sigh and closing the door behind him to sit beside Burr. He saw his shoulders shudder as Burr took deep breaths, heaving in air with effort.

“Burr, you have to tell me what’s wrong or I can’t help you.” Hamilton said calmly but sternly, growing impatient with his friend’s silence.

“Today – or yesterday now, I suppose – was the anniversary of…” He slurred. His head was still in his hands so it was difficult to hear the end of his sentence as he trailed.

“Of…?”

“Theodosia.” Aaron said bluntly, sitting up finally and clasping his hands together. Though he was no longer out of breath, he still shook every time he inhaled.

“Oh… I’m sorry Aaron. I didn’t know her well but she seemed very admir- “

“No, no, stop. She’s gone Alex… she’s…” He reached out as though trying to grasp something invisible, closing his hand and letting it fall by his side. “… Fading.” His body slumped to the side and he leaned into Hamilton. The stink of alcohol was unmistakable.

“… Are you drunk, Burr?”

“Something… something like that.” He rubbed his hands together as though cold, despite it being May.

“You’re absurdly vague, you know. I-”

“Laudanum.”

“Excuse me?”

“I… I had some laudanum. Not much, just a few drops in a glass of wine.”

Alexander paused, rubbing his hands over his face as he groaned very quietly, the sound vibrating through him. “Are you an addict?”

Burr seemed to find this terribly amusing for he began laughing silently, leaning his head on his right hand and grinning irritatingly at Hamilton. “No, no. Though I fear I might become one yet.”

“And that’s funny to you?” He snapped, glaring at the younger man.

“Isn’t it?” He wondered, his brow furrowing in confusion, his eyes unfocused.

“Why on God’s green earth would that be funny?” Alexander exclaimed, clenching and unclenching his fists. Oh, he could really punch Aaron right about now. But instead of replying, the man just wrapped his hands in his own armpits and breathed out slowly, his eyes closing with something resembling serenity but far too troubled.

“I need something to laugh at. Might as well be me.” He whispered, and Alexander wondered if he was talking to himself. Instinctually though hesitantly, he wrapped his arm around his colleague, holding him close and leaning his chin on Burr’s head. He could hear Aaron’s lip quiver as he sucked in air, could feel him shudder with each laborious sob. It sounded as though he was forcing his tears, but maybe it just took a lot of effort to let them out.

“Shh,” He hushed, breathing in the unique smell of Aaron Burr. “You’re not as alone as you think.”

“Everyone’s slipping away…” The Colonel breathed raggedly, “Right through my fingers – like sand.”

“Come now – you have your daughter Burr, you have me if you’re truly desperate.” He joked in a halfhearted attempt to lighten the mood, managing the smallest of smiles for his friend. “And I don’t think either of us will be going for quite some time.”

In response Aaron placed a hand gently on Hamilton’s leg, his head still beneath the other man’s chin.

 “I know how you feel, Aaron.” He whispered, taking the younger man’s hand in his as he shifted, the stone underneath him began to grow a bit painful, but carefully so as not to disturb his friend.

“You still have your wife, Alex. You don’t know a thing…” It wasn’t a malicious statement, but it frustrated Hamilton. His body tensed, his hand withdrawing from Burr’s.

“I don’t have Laurens.”

“S’not the same- “

“How the hell would you know?” He growled, his voice deep at first but squeaking effeminately at the end. “You don’t know shit about me and Laurens! You never knew what we had!”

“Mm… You’re right. What would I know about…” Aaron stumbled to his feet, barely standing straight at all as he let his feet fall down the step on to the pavement, his body rag dolling it’s way about. If not for the lamppost there to steady himself on, he would have fallen rather heavily into the gutter. He swung himself lazily around it, his arm linked with it as he tilted precariously. “I’ll be… home.”

Alexander was tempted to let him find his own way home, fumbling and falling all over the street until he passed out in some unsavory alleyway. He watched for a few moments as Aaron seemed to be trying to remember how to walk, barely managing one foot in front of the other. It was far too pathetic.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take you home.” Hamilton rubbed one hand through his hair in frustration. “Let me get my coat.”

He heard a hum of acknowledgement as he hurried inside to fetch his coat.

Burr practically collapsed on the kerb, his knees shaking all over again as he began exerting himself. His eyelids were becoming heavier as the drug worked its’ way through his system, and the world was blurring before him. Bracing himself with his hands, he lowered his head down to the pavement, the dampness of the stone feeling gritting and unpleasant, but better than sitting up. _Am I going to see her again? Please, just for a moment…_

When Hamilton came back outside Aaron was half sitting, half lying by the side of the road.

“Jesus Christ, I was gone for two minutes!” He sighed exasperatedly, reaching down to pick up the mess that was Colonel Burr from the ground.

“I was going…” He murmured as he was hoisted to his feet abruptly

“To sleep, yes, I saw.”

“To see her again but... you.”

“Yes, yes, you can blame me for waking you. I get it. But you’re not sleeping outside my house on the pavement.” He retorted shortly, hanging one of Aaron’s arms over his shoulder to help him walk.

“No… You’re here.”

“… I had noticed that Burr.”

“Here with me.” He sounded inexplicably more certain as he said that, though Hamilton still couldn’t make head nor tail of what he was saying.

“Sadly, yes.”

Aaron shook his head with more vigor than Alexander would have liked in his current state and so he held him tighter, as though that could somehow protect him.

“But you’re - I mean, we’re...”

“You are not making ANY sense right now Aaron.” He sighed, wondering just how much worse he would get. If he would stop being cryptic for one moment, that would’ve been enough for Alex. He would excuse him this once, on the ground of his health.

 

They reached the door of the Burr household in slightly better shape. Aaron – though still relying on the other lawyer’s support to walk properly – was able to stand on his own at least, and made a point of this as he reached his front door. He rested a hand on the dark, painted wood, hovering on his own doorstep for a few strange moments.

“Stay with me?”

He pushed away the voices in his head screaming that this is against all logic, that this is exactly what he had been trying to avoid from the moment Alexander had answered the door. The prospect of stumbling through his hollow, silent house is too daunting to face alone, the thought of clambering into a cold, empty bed where he could swear his wife’s perfume still lingered, especially at night when all senses were inexplicably amplified. He dared not be alone for a moment in that house.

Hamilton heaved a long, drawn out sigh. “Aaron…”

“Please… just for tonight.”

He didn’t know why, but he conceded. It took Burr a moment to fumble with his key in the lock, but eventually he did manage to open the door.

“Do you even have a place for me to sleep?”

“I have a chaise longue...” He answered uncertainly, sounding far younger than he usually did.

“Great. Wonderful.” Sarcasm lined his words and thin, barely concealed smile-sneer as he followed Burr inside.

Aaron cleared his throat as though by doing so he could somehow clear his mind. He wondered how much he reeked of alcohol, wondered if he could make it to his bedroom without falling over and making a racket.

“My daughter is sleeping...” He mumbled as he leaned on a table in the hallway, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked in a mirror.

“Then be quiet.”

Burr lay in his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling above and expression unspeakably smooth. The light from the moon outside illuminated the room too much for Hamilton’s liking but the Colonel had insisted on the curtain remaining open, mumbling something about how the dulling of one sense strengthened the others. Frankly Hamilton was glad to be laying down to rest finally, his eye lids falling shut with the ease of a good quill on fine paper.

“Alexander?” His voice still low and unsteady.

“Mm?”

“Thank you for tonight.”

“I… You’re welcome, Burr.” Hamilton wavered for a moment. “Anytime.” He could think of far worse ways to fall asleep than with a friend opposite, speaking honestly. It reminded him of his youth, now seeming so distant, when he had little but the clothes on his back, a chip on his shoulder, and his indomitable mind. He was far wealthier now but still he found himself longing for those days again, if only for the simplicity of youth to return to him. Watching his old friend from across the room drifting into blissful nothingness, he felt the same strange pang he had when they were young men determined to change the world, to change each other. Perhaps they would have to settle for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this is such a mess - it has no structure, no end goal, and the perspective switches randomly I'm so sorry about that. But here it is and I hope you enjoy it anyhows. Originally I wanted to have them admit their feelings but let's be real... that'd never happen lmao.


End file.
